House
by Victoria Nope
Summary: I thought it would be a great winter break by myself...most of the time,though, things don't go my way, and end up horribly wrong. This case was no exception.
1. Breaking and Entering is Not a Sport

AN: Yes, I did use Avenged Sevenfold's A Little Piece of Heaven, and yes, I DO have that as my text message ringtone. : 3 Anyway, this is what it would've been like if The Fox River Eight (well…_seven_ if you want to get technical and not include Haywire) just happened upon a house…_my_ house, that is.

_**Chapter One: Breaking and Entering is Not a Sport**_

"Fucking Leon, you useless excuse for a video game whore!" I shout as I die on Resident Evil 4 and the red words _**You are Dead**_ appear on the screen for the fourth or fifth time that night. I throw the controller down in disgust and take a swig of a can of Coke, before setting it down in front of me, away from the army of empty cans I have been building all night. What can I say? I _love_ me some soda. My phone sings at me from the table.

"_Cause you had my heart, at least for the most part…cause everybody's got die sometime. We fell apart…let's make a new start…cause everybody's got die sometime, ye-e-ah But baby don't cry-y-y-y-y." _I flip open the Verizon phone to read my friend's text, then reply, my fingers flying across the keys. I turn it to vibrate, then slip it into the pocket of my favorite torn jeans, and turn the speakers my mp3 player is hooked up to even louder, and sing along to Panic! At The Disco's But It's Better If You Do as I shimmy/sing my way into the kitchen to grab another slice of pizza.

_**Outside:**_

Six men sprint as fast as they can through the woods, panting and dragging in air as they feel the adrenaline start to peter off.

They grind to a halt on the slimy bed of leaves and dirt, and take a breather.

"Michael, we need somewhere to hide." A Latino man gasps, the tall guy with shorn hair and a muscular build next to him nods.

"Where in the hell are we going to find someplace like that here?" A man slightly behind them growls, the red slash of a scar on his throat standing out in the moonlight filtered through the trees.

The man referred to as Michael looks ahead of them, and barely makes out the light coming from a house maybe a quarter of a mile or less to their right. He points, a small smile appearing on his face. "We go there."

_**Back to Me:**_

I half sing, half chew along in the kitchen with Brendan Urie in the song A New Perspective, which I'd put on repeat after the previous song ended. And even with food in my mouth, I'm pretty good at singing it.

_"There's a haze above my T.V., that changes everything I see, and maybe if I continue watching, I'll lose the traits that worry me. Can we fast-forward to go down on me?"_

I switch it off repeat after about the eighth time hearing it, then get up again to toss part of my empty cans away in the trash can. I hear a pounding at the back door (which I don't blame the knocker for since I have my music blasting so loudly it's a surprise the windows don't break). I cautiously head that way and look out the peephole, and feel a chill go through me when I see no one there. I grab my pocket knife, flip it open, and fling open the door. The wind whispers through my hair as I step outside, and the chill only gets worse as I see no one gain. I close the door behind me, then walk in a careful, slow circle around the house before shuffling back to the door, and locking it firmly behind me.

_Assholes,_ I think to myself before closing the knife and jamming it into my back pocket. I see a flash of blue in the living room out of the corner of my eye, and I stiffen, cursing myself for the loud music I can't hear anything over. The knife slides neatly back in my hands and I open it before stepping through the kitchen and stopping in the entrance to the living room.

I see nothing so I shuffle through the doorway, but I barely set foot on the wood floor before someone grabs me from behind and places their hand over my mouth.

_**The Other Side of the Matter:**_

Michael watches as his friend, the Latino called Sucre, ambushes the ruby-haired girl when she enters the living room. She struggles furiously, her tall, skinny body thrashing so hard Sucre almost lets her slip away. The knife is still in her hand, and as Michael and the rest come out of their hiding places, she jams him in the arm with it. Sucre swore loudly in Spanish as the girl yanked it out and raced away from him the best she could without slipping in her bare feet.

She barely slipped past the scarred man, Abruzzi, and she flew up the stairs.

"Stay here." Michael told a thankful Sucre, as Lincoln, Abruzzi, T-Bag, and he went up after her, leaving Tweener behind as well. He motioned for them to check all the rooms, and they did, mostly without comment. T-Bag started calling for her in his heavy southern accent.

"Girl, why don't you come out? You're just causing more trouble for us. We'll find you either way, so why not make it easy on yourself?" he drawled; in what he hoped was an enticing voice. A loud vibration started going off as he searched a room, this one possibly the girl's, with comic book stacks and posters everywhere, and he made his way over to the closet, listening as he heard a faint scrabbling sound from inside it.

_**Back to Me:**_

"_Fuck!"_ I hissed as my phone vibrated on the floor of my closet, as it reminded me I got a text message as I had struggled in the living room. It only got some bars downstairs, so I had taken it out and placed it on the wooden floor of the closet, despairing at its uselessness. I pulled it over to me, wincing as it clattered loudly when I dropped it in my haste. I stopped the vibrating, but all too late as the door flew open and hand pulled me into the light of my room.

_**The Other Side of the Matter:**_

T-Bag dragged her out of the closet, grinning brightly. "Oh boys! Look who I got here!" The girl tried to stab him like she did Sucre, but he twisted her wrist, hard, and she dropped the bloodstained knife to the floor. "You are a _looker_ aren't you?" he murmured as he kicked the knife away from her searching foot. Her almond-shaped hazel eyes met his, fire rising in their depths. She was almost his height, give or take a few inches, and she tried to stare him down like she was six foot. She opened her mouth to scream, but he quickly grabbed her wrists in one hand, and slapped the other over her mouth.

"None of that, please." He said firmly, as Michael, Lincoln, and Abruzzi entered the room.

"Are you alone for tonight?" Abruzzi demanded from the girl, and T-Bag took his hand away so she could talk. She lost the color in her face instantly when she saw their numbers.

"Abruzzi!" Michael said sharply, before approaching the girl. "What's your name?" he asked, softly. She remained silent for a second before replying.

"…Are you going to kill me?"


	2. Nightmare

_**Chapter Two: Nightmare**_

A/N: Chapter two! Surprising it went this far, I thought it might just be sort of a one shot or one of those series that never has an ending written, but look where we are now! As always, please review, and just enjoy!

A Side Note: No, my parents wouldn't leave me alone for winter break; I'm just making this interesting. And I'm younger than my chick, by the way, plus my hair is a LOT shorter than hers but it's the same color, and basically everything else is the same. Enough of my rambling read the chapter! :D

The ruby-haired girl's question shocked Michael. T-Bag laughed from his position behind her. "Not if you cooperate, girl." He whispered in her ear, and she went stiff at the close contact.

"Enough, T-Bag!" Michael commanded, went out in the hall, and found again the bathroom he had seen earlier. He looked under the sink and, thankfully, found washcloths. He went back to the girl's room, and ripped the fabric into strips. He sat her on the bed, T-Bag still restraining her, and tied her hands behind her.

_**Back to Me:**_

I felt hot tears of frustration pricking my eyes, but I fought them off. _Stay strong and angry._ I told myself, and flinched when someone took my face in their hand and turned it to look at them.

"I'm Michael." He said, and stared at me with his pretty blue eyes, waiting for my reply.

"Victoria." I stated, and yanked my face out of his hand.

"Well, we got ourselves a _Victoria_ here!" The man called T-Bag grinned at me viciously before Michael gave him a look that shut him up. The other man, I think it was Abruzzi, left, mumbling something about cutting the phones.

"How old are you?" Michel questioned.

"Old enough."

"That could be anything, girl." T-Bag muttered.

"I'm old enough that my parents think its okay to leave me alone here for the two weeks I have for winter break." I spat, instantly regretting it. The two men exchanged a meaningful look then looked back at her.

"How far along is your winter break?" Michael asked her gently.

"Three days," I muttered, angry and hopeless. My parents never cared if I called them or not, and they never called anyway, so if seemed I was stuck in this situation.

"Well, my dear girl, it seems like you are our hostess for the next few days." T-Bag said, and grinned again.

And I, eloquent as always, put my distaste forth in the most sincere way possible.

"Fuck you."

_**The Other Side of the Matter:**_

"Don't be making offers you can't hold up, girl." Came the reply from behind Michael, and that made the girl, Victoria, smile without humor.

"Legally, yeah, I can hold it up. You six aren't rule followers, though, are you? _Especially _you." Her smile was gone in an instant and a hard look came over her face when she looked at T-Bag.

"In that assumption, you are right." He tried to step closer to her but Michael stood and blocked him.

"We need to take her downstairs so we can watch her all at once." he said to T-Bag, his eyes never leaving her face, which fell instantly. He helped her stand, and made sure her wrists were completely bound behind her before he took her down the stairs, T-Bag directly behind him. He set her down on the couch, and went over to where Sucre was standing against the triple-locked front door while T-Bag went into the kitchen, probably to look for something to drink.

"You alright?" Sucre nodded and showed Michael his forearm. It was bandaged neatly with gauze and hadn't bled through the white.

"She didn't stab deep that deep, and I found a first-aid kit with some aspirin too. I'll be fine." He jerked his chin in Victoria's direction. "What's her story?"

"Her name is Victoria, and she is staying here alone for the rest of her winter break. She's three days into it, and apparently her parents left here alone for the entire duration."

"Lucky find, Snowflake." He grinned and slapped Michael on the back.

"Yeah, but I don't know how well she'll do with T-Bag around. We'll have to watch her two at a time."

"Oi!" Victoria called from her seat on the black leather couch. "I need back in my room."

"Why?" Abruzzi asked.

"I need to change clothes. Plus I need a shower; last one I took was yesterday.

Michael and probably everyone else in the room, including T-Bag who had just emerged with an open can of Coke, looked her up and down. She wore black t-shirt bearing the words "Local Area Network Team Zombie" with a picture of a zombie on it, a dark blue and white checkered flannel shirt worn open with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, and a pair of jeans with holes in them. Her dyed ruby hair hung down to the top of her shoulders in a long braid, and looked fine. However, how could you deny someone a shower? Even in prison, people took showers.

Michael sighed and pointed to Sucre. "Take her upstairs, let her get clothes, then untie her wrists and stand outside the door to the bathroom."

"Will do." They departed and everyone in the room seemed to relax.

"She's going to be a problem." Abruzzi stated, angry looking like always.

"Naw, shawty will be fine, yo." Tweener spoke, at last, from where he slouched against the wall.

"Not for some of us, _yo._" He replied while he looked over at T-Bag, who was leaning against the door, drinking his first soda as a (almost) free man. He just smiled and raised his soda in a toast to Abruzzi.

"She'll be fine." Lincoln replied from his seat in an armchair. A loud banging sound made them all jump.

"Upstairs!" Michel shouted and they all went to see the problem.

_**Back to Me:**_

"I'm sorry." I whispered to the, now unconscious, Latino named Sucre that lay upon my bedroom floor. Shards of the coffee mug lay all around his head, but I paid no attention to them as I pulled my shoes on as best I could with my hands tied. Sucre had earlier helped me pull my hands around to my front, something he would regret when he woke up. I hastily opened the window, and climbed out onto the roof, slithering over to the edge so I could latch onto a tree, the same way I would if I was sneaking out to go to a party. I managed to shimmy down the tree without hurting anything, and I took off running into the woods, my gold ankh necklace thumping against my chest.

I wildly remembered the meaning of it; life, and I hoped fervently that I could keep mine.

The familiar ground of my childhood assured me as I sprinted deeper and deeper into the woods I used to know so well. I stopped after what felt like hours, and was probably just seconds, and slid into a ditch, wincing at the slimy mud in the bottom of it. I panted and strained my ears to catch every sound, but heard nothing in return. Then I the faint voices to my left and right reached me.

"Did you find her?" That was Michael.

"No, it's like she disappeared." Sucre.

"She knows this place better than we do. Keep an eye out." Abruzzi.

"Yo, shawty could be anywhere!" A new voice sounded out of breath and hopeless.

"That just means we have to look harder." Another new voice.

_Where was the sixth man? T-Bag, was it?_

After the voices faded, I stood and climbed out of the ditch, ignoring the mud on me for now. It could be taken care of. I wiped the sweat off my face, but stopped. It was already drying in the cold air, so I let it be.

My hair had escaped the braid I put in it earlier and, thankfully, stayed out of my eyes for now. I walked quietly to my right, hoping to circle around and go back to my house, but I was stopped when an arm slithered around my waist, and a hand covered my mouth.

I was pulled back against a warm, muscular body like a ragdoll, and shivered when I heard a voice sound in my ear.

"Well, hello there, pretty." T-Bag murmured.


	3. Up Close and Personal

A/N: Another chapter! Le gasp! I never thought I'd get this far, as I said before, but it's a good thing I did. There is a reason this is rated M, _**especially **_in this chapter. Thought I'd throw in a little action to keep people interested, and by the way, I don't think T-Bag would care if Victoria was or wasn't eighteen; he was in jail for rape, pedophilia, and murder, remember? Anyway, didn't want to piss people off. Now before this note turns into the story, have fun reading, reviewing, and enjoying as always!

A/N 2: If you were curious, Victoria's height is about 5'8 (same as me), and I always thought of T-Bag as around 5'10 to 5'11. Just some random info that you can correct me on if I'm wrong. :3

_**Chapter Three: Up-close and Personal**_

_**The Other Side of the Matter:**_

"The way I figure it, we have precious little time before we are discovered. However, this will be quicker if you just do what I say. You got that, pretty?" The girl (he still thought of her as _the girl_, even after learning her name) stared straight ahead, still except for her suppressed shivering, trying not to show fear probably. He pulled her tighter against him.

_"I asked you a question, girl."_ he hissed sharply and she nodded furiously in response. "Glad we understand each other." She tried to say something, but it was muffled by his hand. He removed it slightly. "What'd you say, pretty?"

"Do your fucking worse, asshole." she mumbled, part of her mouth covered. He chuckled before he replaced his hand. He chuckled quietly and moved forward.

"I plan to." T-Bag pressed her up against a nearby tree, and turned the girl around to face him before placing his mouth over hers to trap any sound. "This will be much less unpleasant if you don't just stand there like a piece of wood, pretty." he mumbled against her lips.

_**Back to Me:**_

_He wants a kiss? I'll fucking give him a kiss. _My hands slipped over his head to grab his hair, and I kissed him, hard momentarily surprising him before he responded just as hard. One of his hands slid into my own ruby colored waves and held me against him, while the other slid up my shirt and splayed against my taut stomach. It slid around to my spine as our mouths mashed against each other. God, this was making me sick. Thankfully, he broke it off before I gagged and we stood there, catching our breath. My eyes were still closed and my head rested back against the tree as I waited for him to continue.

"Victoria, my dear girl, are you still in possession of your so-called V-Card?" My eyes shot open, and my head grew level again as I looked at him in shock.

"What-"

"You never told Scofield your age, pretty. It is natural for me to assume you thought your…innocence was in danger." His eyes met mine and searched them, thoughtfully.

"I-I'm eighteen," I stammered. T-Bag shot me a smooth smile before he slid in closer and softly breathed in my ear, "We both know that doesn't mean anything. So, tell me, pretty, has your sweetness been taken from you yet?" His hand ran through my hair and curled a strand of it around his index finger.

That was what made me sort of snap. I brought up my knee to try and destroy his "family jewels" but he dodged it easily, and the way he moved made him unbalanced, so we both were sent to the ground. I tried to roll on top of him, but he was heavier so he was able to roll me over onto my back. He looked at me and gave me a sly wink.

"Well now, aren't you a fighter? Unfortunately, we don't have time for foreplay right now, girl."

"You should talk less." I spat, which made him laugh, while at the same time his fingers slid down to unbutton my jeans, his surprisingly warm hands touching my stomach as they succeeded in their endeavor.

At that precise moment, a loud thud came from above me, and T-Bag dropped onto my chest, out cold. I shoved him off of me and sat up, still shaking from the cold and the fear I was experiencing, and looked up to find Michael, Sucre, and one of the new guys standing before me. Weirdly enough, new guy and Michael looked sort of alike. That didn't register with me right then, though, as all I did was stare, trembling.

"T-t-thank-" I tried to get out, but I was quieted by Sucre, who tossed aside the chunk of wood he held and kneeled in front of me.

"Don't mention it, that guy is like _El Diablo_, the Devil." I nodded, placed my face in my hands, and for the first and hopefully last time that night, I cried in the cold night air.

I didn't have long to cry, however, because a moment later, I felt something whack me in the head, and the blackness that followed it was only milliseconds behind.

_**The Other Side of the Matter:**_

Abruzzi stood there, panting, and watched the girl slump onto the ground, a product of his own handiwork.

"Man, you is whacked!" Tweener shouted as came up behind him. "You ain't supposed to be hittin' on girls that just ain't right!"

Michael, Lincoln, and Sucre all gave him looks that said the same.

"We should be worrying about what happens when T-Bag wakes up, not my choice of dealing with situations. Besides, do you really believe she would've gone back without fight?" As much as they hated it, they couldn't deny he was right.

"I'll get T-Bag, Michael can get the girl." Lincoln stated, then hoisted T-Bag's arm around his shoulders, pulling him off the ground with a loud grunt. Michael copied him, only after he fixed her undone jeans, though, and wasn't surprised to feel how light she was. He scooped her up easily, his arm under her knees, his other arm wrapped around her shoulders.

They started the half a mile or so back to the house, and Michael heard his brother, Lincoln, muttering the entire way that T-Bag should have been left in the woods.

Michael didn't disagree one bit.

_**Back to Me:**_

My eyes opened and squinted at the harsh light that invaded them after so long a period of darkness. I tried to pull the blankets over my head, but when I tried to move one of my hands just didn't go past a certain point. I let my pupils adjust and looked up to see I was handcuffed to my metal bedpost.

"The fuck is this?" I mumbled, groggily, and tried to get it off.

"That is a prison issued pair of handcuffs, and unless your hand turns to jelly, you can't get it off. Believe me, I tried _many_ times." The man looked familiar, and instantly the entire night rushed back.

"Oh hell." I muttered, and looked around. I was in my room, it seemed, and the man in front of me was the guy that I suspected of being Michael's brother. "Did you sleep in here!" I demanded, and was relieved when he shook his head. "We slept downstairs in between shifts. We thought you were going to wake up earlier than this."

"How long has it been?"

"You got hit about midnight, and its six eleven p.m. right now." I gaped at him.

"Who the hell hit me?"

"Abruzzi. He's quite the lady killer it seems." I snorted and tossed the sheets off me with my free hand. I noticed that I now wore some of my sleep clothes: a pair of Batman boxers worn over my normal underwear, and an over-sized white t-shirt.

"Who did this?" I demanded.

"Sucre. Don't worry, he has a pregnant girlfriend somewhere, I trust him." I made a face at him before standing up. _Bad move_, I decided as the world spun viciously around me, forcing me to sit down.

"Either you get me some acid, or get me some meds and a glass of water." I said, clutching a hand to my head, which had apparently been bandaged with a large, thick square of gauze. He handed me the latter, since he'd apparently deduced I've never dropped acid before, and I swallowed them gratefully.

"What's your name, Nurse?" I got him to crack a little bit of a smile with that name.

"Lincoln."

"Well Lincoln, nice to be your prisoner. Now can you let a lady shower?"

"Remember what happened when you asked for one last night, and think about that request again." I remembered, alright. I shuddered to think about it, and wiped a hand across my mouth, feeling the weird sensation of T-Bag's kiss on my lips.

"Even more of a reason to try and take a shower. Please can I wash that creepy bastard off me?" Lincoln hesitated, before nodding briskly. He released my wrist, but cuffed them in front of me just to make sure. I rifled around through my drawers, grabbing the necessities, before I was released again into the bathroom. I gently pulled the dressing off my head wound and couldn't bear to look at it when I saw the dried blood on the gauze. I stepped into the shower, and God was I thankful for hot water. I scrubbed all over, making sure to pay attention to my lips. I carefully washed my hair, and refused to look down as the dried blood washed off; and new blood began to flow from my temple. I finished, stepped out, and made sure to brush extra hard and gargle twice. I braided my hair before slipping into a pair of grey skinny jeans, a white t-shirt with a black wife-beater underneath, and a black button-up sweater over that.

I knocked on the door, and it wasn't Lincoln that greeted me, it was Sucre. He managed to handcuff my hands behind my back, even with my gazillion random bracelets on.

"Sucre, right?" He nodded, and started to lead me to the stairs.

"Look…I'm sorry about hitting you I just…"

"Wanted to get the hell out of here?"

"Yeah, and thanks for literally saving my ass last night."

"Wasn't your ass he was after." I laughed, and he continued, "Besides, any excuse to hit that bastard makes me happy."

"And I wanted to apologize for stabbing you." I said, the smile sliding off my face.

"I would've done the same, I mean, would you really let yourself get taken easily? That's like throwing yourself to the dogs."

I couldn't agree more. Unfortunately, though, this small moment of peace couldn't last forever, and we headed downstairs to meet the others.


End file.
